


Commanding Fame

by syllableelixir



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artists, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Inspired by Music, Lesbian Character, Love Stories, Musicians, References to the Beatles, Slow Burn Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 20:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10226519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syllableelixir/pseuds/syllableelixir
Summary: Lexa Woods is a rising musician with fame and success on her mind. Clarke Griffin is an aspiring artist who just wants to be taken seriously. When their worlds collide at a concert one night, the sparks between them are undeniable. But before they can give in to their desires, Lexa and Clarke must confront demons from their past and discover that sometimes letting down your guard leaves you vulnerable to the things you want most.





	1. Clarke

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Clexa fic. Go easy on me, merciful reader ; )

The first time she laid eyes on Lexa, Clarke didn’t stand a chance. Clarke could practically see the neon energy between them — she in the swaying mass of bodies at the foot of the stage, Lexa in complete control of her Stratocaster, her fingers dancing from note to note along the neck of the guitar. Their eyes met, and Clarke detected a knowing smile tugging at the corner of Lexa’s lips. Lexa saw Clarke watching and loved every minute of it.

As Clarke chewed a piece of ice from her empty glass, she closed her eyes and let the music consume her. The bodies behind nudged her closer to the stage. They were standing no more than ten feet away from Trikru.

Raven turned angrily and glared over her shoulder.

“Really?”

Clarke laughed as her best friend threw icy glares like daggers at the offending group of young girls. Normally she hated crowds just as much as Raven. But something about tonight was different. The club was packed. Her drink was empty, and there was zero chance she’d make it to the bar and back without being consumed by the crowd. What was it about the musician on stage that made her feel like nothing mattered more than that song pouring from the speakers? 

The song ended to a roar of applause. Clarke and Lexa locked eyes again. This time Lexa didn’t try to hide the smirk on her face. She’s probably not even looking at you, Clarke reasoned with herself. Musicians knew all about stage presence and making it appear like they were making eye contact with everyone in the crowd, right?

Raven was the one who’d told Clarke about Trikru, and she wouldn’t shut up about it. She created a playlist, and it was all they listened to when Raven was driving. Raven would turn up the music, forcing Clarke to listen to the impressive range of the lead singer’s voice. Preferring not to walk, Clarke agreed with Raven that it was unlike anything she’d ever heard. Clarke also offered to go to a concert with Raven if Trikru ever played a gig in town. Tonight was the night. And she had to admit, she was excited. Especially watching Lexa command the stage. Seriously, was Lexa watching her back?

As butterflies fluttered in the pit of Clarke’s stomach, Lincoln made his way out from behind the drum set, throwing his arm around Lexa. He whispered something in Lexa’s ear and she laughed easily. Clarke swore she saw Lexa point directly to where Clarke stood in the crowd, but before Clarke could find out, Octavia walked up behind Lexa and grabbed the microphone.

“Thank you for coming out tonight, and a special thanks to Polis for letting us perform. We’ll be sticking around for a meet and greet. You know you want to buy us a drink.” 

Octavia winked and the crowd went wild again. Lexa stole back the microphone and walked to the edge of the stage.

“But before that, we’re going to play one more song. We have something new to show you.”

Lexa stood and carefully placed her Stratocaster on a stand at the side of the stage. With her other hand, she grabbed a hazelnut colored acoustic guitar. Lexa strummed a few chords on her guitar as she waited for the noise of the crowd to die down. The lights dimmed, and the only light in the club was fixed on Lexa. She closed her eyes, and her long, slender fingers took on a life of their own.

As Lexa’s right hand strummed, her left hand caressed the guitar strings tenderly, working her way along the frets. The look on her face was one of pure elation. She was an artist, her canvas the stage, her brush the guitar resting against her thigh.

Most of Trikru’s songs were upbeat, but this one was slower and more emotional. Lexa played a few more chords, pausing to let the notes linger. Then she began to sing.

 _Inside your eyes_  
_I could live forever_  
 _Find shelter in your embrace_  
 _And let time pass us by_  
 _Why should we wait?_  
 _For love to bind us_  
 _When you and I already know_  
 _Resisting will kill us both_

Lexa’s voice stunned the fans around her into silence. Even the restless group of girls behind Clarke and Raven swayed to the music, their drinks untouched. A few guys near the stage flipped on their lighters and flames danced in the darkness.

Raven nudged Clarke, pulling out her cell phone and turning on the flashlight. Clarke reached into her pocket for her own phone, but something haunting in Lexa’s voice stopped her. It was hypnotizing. Every note that hung in the air was an unspoken affirmation of her surreal talent. Clarke swayed back and forth and noticed that Raven was also enchanted by the music. Their bodies were like a swinging pendulum, synchronized with the unfamiliar bodies around them.

Lincoln kept beat perfectly to Lexa’s song, cymbals crashing as the climax of the song grew near. Octavia plucked away at the strings of her bass with focused intensity. When had the other band members started playing? On the stage, Clarke saw only Lexa. Lexa’s head was bowed in concentration. Her lips moved silently to each beautiful note she played. 

When the song ended, Clarke expected a roar of applause, but the entire club was silent. Clarke remembered a road trip she’d taken with her family years ago. They’d driven from their home in Portland, making their way through the southwest to the Grand Canyon. As she sat in the back seat gazing out the passenger window, she couldn’t even form words to describe the magnificence she saw — the red mountains capped in snow, their tips seeming to touch the bottoms of the puffy white clouds. Clarke felt the same way about the song she’d just heard. Spellbound. Speechless.

Finally the crowd exploded into loud cheers and wolf whistles. Lexa swung the guitar around to her back and took a small bow. When she rose to face the crowd, Lexa’s eyes once again locked on Clarke. The look on Lexa’s face was complicated, expectant and almost unsure. But the vulnerability went away as quickly as it had appeared, and the confident singer was back. 

“Well?” Raven’s voice in Clarke’s ear jolted Clarke from her thoughts.

“Well, what?”

Raven rolled her eyes dramatically. “I said, do you want to head out now so we can beat the crowd?”

“Oh.” Clarke glanced at the stage, but Lexa was gone. “Sure, I guess.”

Raven eyed her friend suspiciously. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed off all night.”

Clarke nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s grab food. Wanna check out the burger place across the street?”

Raven smiled. “I can always go for a burger.”

Clarke and Raven elbowed their way through the thinning crowd, Clarke in the lead. Raven held a tight grip on Clarke’s shoulder, tethering them together.

Suddenly Raven’s grip loosened, and Clarke turned. Raven was staring at something at the bar.

“What is it?” Clarke asked. Even though she already knew. That look could only mean one thing.

Raven’s face lit up. Clarke followed Raven’s gaze to the bar and spotted him immediately. Finn was sitting at the bar with Bellamy, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a Bud Light. Finn’s long, wavy brown hair framed his square, handsome face and chiseled jaw. Bellamy made dramatic movements with his hands, clearly in the middle of an interesting story, and Finn threw his head back, laughing loudly. 

“Don’t hate me. I’ll be right back.” Raven winked at Clarke and headed toward the bar.

“See you in an hour,” Clarke mumbled under her breath.

Raven and Finn had been dating on and off for the past few months. Now was one of those off-again periods, but she suspected that by the end of the night, their relationship would be back on. As much as they constantly bickered and broke up over pointless things, they really were perfect for each other.

It drove Clarke crazy. She craved that kind of relationship. Okay, so maybe she was a little jealous, but not for the obvious reasons. Ever since she’d broken up with Finn more than a year ago, she just hadn’t felt the need to get into a relationship. Finn was a great guy, and on paper, their relationship had been enviable. But Clarke just hadn’t felt the feelings she was supposed to feel for him, and it showed.

Luckily they were still friends, and fortunately for Raven, Clarke just wanted her best friend to be happy. When Raven confessed her feelings for Finn, Clarke didn’t think twice about giving Raven the green light to go after him.

Clarke sat down at an empty table in front of the stage. Lincoln was on stage packing up his drum kit, and Octavia lingered nearby on her phone. There was still no sign of Lexa.

“Anything to drink?” A bartender with bright pink nail polish and her hair in a tight bun approached Clarke with a friendly smile.

“No, I’m…” Clarke hesitated. Her eyes scanned the stage in front of her. Octavia had ended her phone call. She snuck up behind Lincoln, who was packing away a snare drum, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He grinned and kissed her playfully on the cheek, his drum sticks stashed away in his back pocket.

Clarke turned back to the bartender. “Actually, there is something I want.” 


	2. Lexa

Like after every concert, Lexa was elated. The new song had gone over better than she expected, and Trikru was more musically in sync than they had ever been. Typically, Lexa liked to perfect a song before performing it live, iron out all the wrinkles and go back over the music with the eye of a critic. Each time she played a song, it was slightly different than the last. Sometimes she would change up a guitar lick or strum pattern. Other times she’d alter a song’s lyrics to fit the mood of the crowd.

But this song was different. That night, the crowd just felt right. And her mind couldn’t help but drift away to the attractive blond she’d seen in the sea of faces. Lexa wondered why it seemed like she’d seen the girl before. Every time she looked out into the crowd, her eyes found the girl, staring back at her with the same look of recognition.

The gig had been unplanned – the club manager, an old friend of Lexa’s, needed a band to fill in for a last-minute cancellation. Trikru happily stepped in. After Lincoln and Octavia had gotten married, the band had taken a break for a few months. Lexa was eager to get back on the road, even if Costia wasn’t exactly thrilled. 

Costia. Lexa felt the phone in her tight pocket and dreaded the messages that inevitably waited on its screen. She and Costia had fought when Lexa announced she’d be touring again this summer. Costia hated the tours, and Lexa couldn’t really blame her. Sometimes Lexa was on the road for months at a time before she returned home. At the same time, Lexa was a musician, and Costia knew that when they’d met.

Almost a year ago, Lexa had been playing a gig at a crowded bar – back before Trikru when Lexa had been trying to make it as a solo artist. She was a guitarist with a passion for music and a few dollars in her pocket, and though the gig paid peanuts, Lexa loved the feeling of being on stage in front of a crowd. Even if the crowd was there mainly for the nightly drink specials.

Lexa met Costia that night through a mutual friend, who introduced them at the bar over tequila shots. Buzzed by the tequila, Lexa spent the rest of the evening getting to know Costia, a well-known attorney in town. From that moment on, she couldn’t get enough of Costia. After gigs, Lexa would drive hours to crash at Costia’s, exhausted from the tour but energized by Costia’s presence. Even if they only got to spend a few hours together, it was worth the drive. And the lack of sleep.

But about six months into their relationship, the constant traveling became a burden. When Lexa was in town, Costia was busy with work. When Costia had a slower month, Lexa was on the road going from show to show.

“This isn’t working,” Costia had told Lexa as she watched Lexa pack her bag to head back out on the road.

Lexa frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Us. The traveling. The tours. It’s not working for me.”

“But this is my career,” Lexa said, nudging her guitar case with her foot. “You’re an attorney and I’m a musician. You go to work in the courtroom, I go to work on stage.”

Costia sighed. “It’s not the same, and you know it.” 

“So, is this it then? I go on the road and we’re finished?”

Costia said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.

A week later, Lexa still hadn’t heard from Costia. Lexa gave in and checked her phone. Nothing. Not even a message to check in and make sure Lexa had made it safely to Polis. 

But even Costia couldn’t dampen Lexa’s mood. Standing backstage waiting for Lincoln and Octavia to finish packing up their equipment, she forced herself to stop thinking about Costia. Instead she focused on her guitar solo in Trikru’s opening number. It was time to change things up. She was getting bored playing the same thing.

As Lexa was lost in thought, a bottle of Guinness appeared next to her fraying guitar case.

“You look like a Guinness girl.” Standing next to Lexa was the girl in the crowd. She had eyes the color of an endless clear blue stream. Her golden hair fell in wavy curls against her cheeks. Lips pursed in a thin line, she studied Lexa as if trying to memorize her features. Hiding behind her serious demeanor was a look of amusement.

Lexa glanced at the beer and back at the girl. “I prefer cider.”

The girl cracked a sly smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Interesting.” 

The two women stood in silence. Lexa resumed packing up her guitar, the bottle of Guinness perspiring between them.

The girl caught Lexa’s eye and motioned to the guitar. “May I?”

Lexa hesitated. Her guitar was off limits to even her closest friends. But she surprised herself by nodding and handing her first and only acoustic guitar to a stranger.

A look of surprise flashed over the girl’s face. She cradled the guitar in her arms, gently swinging the strap over her right shoulder. Her brown V-neck tee dipped slightly, and Lexa caught a glimpse of the girl’s bare shoulder. Lexa’s fingers longed to feel the softness of her skin.

The girl strummed a D and G chord lightly a few times, her eyes never leaving Lexa’s. Then she unclipped the capo fastened to the guitar’s head, pressed it against the strings and began playing a song, humming softly, almost inaudibly.

Lexa knew the song immediately. She listened with interest.

After the chorus, the girl paused, waiting for Lexa’s reaction. Lexa studied the girl’s fingers, poised on the strings, waiting to play. Lexa started singing, her voice low and sincere.   

_Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting_   
_Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been clear_

The girl started strumming again and joined in, singing along this time. Her voice was refreshing. Flawless.

_Here comes the sun_   
_Here comes and sun, and I say_   
_It’s all right_

The girl let the final note resonate. When it faded away, she said, “I’m Clarke.”

“I’m Lexa. You have a beautiful voice.” And you’re breathtakingly gorgeous, she had to stop herself from saying.

Lexa expected Clarke’s face to light up, like many of the women she had met after gigs. The ones who were eager to buy her drinks and attach themselves to Lexa. Once again, Clarke surprised her.

“I know.” Clarke stood silently in her self-assurance, running her slender fingers up and down the neck of the guitar, her touch gentle and deliberate. “What’s her name?”

“Heda,” Lexa replied.

Clarke returned Lexa’s guitar to the case and smiled. “Of course.”

Lexa noticed there wasn’t a ring on Clarke’s finger and became annoyed with herself for noticing. She fastened the buckles on the guitar case and hoisted the instrument on her shoulder. “I should go… meet and greet.” Lexa picked up the Guinness and took a few quick swigs. 

“I thought you didn’t like Guinness,” Clarke said, watching as Lexa pressed the bottle to her lips.

“I never said that,” Lexa replied. “I said I prefer cider.”

Clarke laughed. Her laugh was musical. It drew Lexa in – she wanted more. Clarke’s smile lingered and she moved closer to Lexa. Lexa could smell her perfume – faint, but sweet, like a meadow of lavender and jasmine. Lexa inhaled deeply as Clarke brushed her fingers along the emblem of Lexa’s jacket. An infinity symbol.

“Ready for burgers?” An olive-skinned girl with long dark hair appeared behind Clarke. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She studied Lexa closely, her eyes an unspoken question: who are you?

Lexa took another sip of the Guinness. Clarke turned quickly and nodded to the girl behind her.

“Thanks for the drink,” Lexa offered, hiding the amusement on her face when she saw Clarke’s friend’s eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Of course.”

As Clarke and her friend headed toward the door, Lexa smiled. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling she’d see Clarke again. She hoped like hell she was right.


	3. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wife's reaction to this chapter: 'Ugh, Nylah?!' If your reaction is similar, just be patient. I promise Lexa is coming.

Clarke swore under her breath and swiveled in her chair. On a tray beside her, she grabbed the kneaded eraser and removed the too-thick outline from the trunk of her pine tree. Clarke’s fingers were coated in a heavy layer of charcoal, the side of her hand also blackened after resting on the mountains she’d drawn in the distance. She sighed and placed the eraser back on the tray next to her easel.

Outside her studio window, the first rays of sun were finally beginning to peek through the trees she was bringing to life on her sketch pad. A hazy calm settled over the room as dust motes danced in the sunlight and the studio became markedly warmer. Birds sang nearby, their voices a chorus of morning greetings. The curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze. An early-morning rain shower had left glistening droplets of water on the leaves and branches shielding her home. With it came the smell of fallen cedar and damp soil.

Clarke closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the stillness wash over her. She’d been awake since dawn attempting to recreate the scene she saw every morning outside her window. It was a work in progress – almost a month, to be exact. Each time she thought her drawing was complete, she gazed into the distance and felt there was something missing.

But was it fair to expect that such a marvelous landscape could be duplicated with a piece of charcoal? Sometimes Clarke wished she was a painter so she could capture the vivid greens, the cerulean blues and the earthy browns on a canvas and share the view outside her window with the world. It was Clarke’s piece of paradise.

From the outside, her house looked like it belonged to the earth. Wrapped in wood siding, nestled between cedars and pines along a lazily flowing stream, Clarke’s lofted home was one of the only man-made structures for miles. After living in the city for most of her life, Clarke traded her one-bedroom apartment for the serenity and inspiration she’d hoped would come from living in nature. Some nights, she had trouble falling asleep without the ambient noises of the city – the honking taxis, the wailing sirens, the throbbing beat of the dance club several stories below her apartment. But she gradually got used to the darkness and stillness. Now she could never imagine living in the city again.

Clarke opened her eyes and grabbed her blending stump from the tray. As she was smoothing the shading at the edge of the mountains, Clarke heard a light tapping at her door. Niylah entered the studio holding two steaming mugs of coffee. She wore a long tee shirt that just barely covered her smooth, toned thighs. Her brownish blonde hair was tousled with sleep. She gave Clarke a lazy smile and placed the mug on Clarke’s tray. Clarke inhaled the savory aroma of freshly brewed, dark-roast coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Niylah placed a warm hand on Clarke’s shoulder, then draped her arms around Clarke’s neck.

Clarke nestled her face against the inside of Niylah’s forearm. Fine, blonde hairs tickled Clarke’s cheek. She pressed her lips to Niylah’s arm, leaving a trail of kisses from the center of Niylah’s forearm to her slender wrist.

“I was inspired.” Clarke turned to her sketchbook.

Niylah gave Clarke a knowing look. She leaned into Clarke, nuzzling her face into Clarke’s hair. Clarke smelled Niylah’s shampoo, a pleasant blend of coconut and citrus.

Niylah brushed aside a strand of Clarke’s hair and whispered in her ear, “It looks amazing.”

Clarke’s body was overtaken by a wave of goosebumps, Niylah’s minty breath in her ear. She felt the hairs on her arm stand on end.

What were they exactly? Lovers? Sort of. Clarke didn’t have the words to describe her relationship with Niylah. They’d started out as dorm mates at the university, discovering they had a lot in common, namely their sense of humor and their desire to escape from the watchful eye of their parents.

Niylah confessed that her father had been unenthusiastic about his daughter’s decision to declare a drama major and pursue a career in acting. He’d had his heart set on Niylah taking over the family business someday, not going from audition to audition trying to land a role on the big screen. Clarke immediately understood Niylah’s frustration – Clarke’s mother was laying on pressure of her own for Clarke to apply to med school and follow in Abby’s footsteps.

But Clarke wasn’t passionate about medicine. She excelled at math and science, and med school seemed like a natural next step to many of Clarke’s professors. It just wasn’t what she imagined herself doing. Clarke pictured herself where she was in that exact moment – in her studio, hands and face smeared with charcoal, sketchbook splayed in front of her – not in the sterile environment of the hospital wearing scrubs. 

Niylah and Clarke connected on many levels – emotionally, spiritually, sexually. And Niylah seemed as content as Clarke with the sensual, passionate connection they shared, even if it was undefined by labels. That’s why when Niylah reached out to Clarke several months ago looking for a place to live, Clarke didn’t hesitate to open her home to Niylah.

Clarke and Niylah gazed at the drawing together. Clarke sensed that she was getting closer to completion. The mountains still needed some blending, and Clarke wanted to darken the outline surrounding the trees to give them more depth, but overall, she was proud of the work in progress.

“Have you called Diane yet?” Niylah knew the owner of a gallery in the city and had been trying to convince Clarke to submit her work. Though Clarke was excited about the opportunity, she never really felt ready. Most artists she knew had art degrees and formal training. Clarke had none of those things – just a few art supplies and a degree in biology. 

“Not yet,” Clarke replied.

Niylah stood and took a sip of her coffee, moving slowly toward the easel. Mid-sip, she tilted her head slightly at the drawing. “Makes me feel like I’m living in the forest.”

Clarke’s gaze drifted to Niylah’s backside. She traced the curves of Niylah’s hips with her eyes, imagining how she’d capture the beauty of Niylah’s body using only charcoal. Clarke’s eyes drifted lower and lingered. The tee shirt hugged Niylah in all the right places.

“That’s because you are.”

Niylah turned, catching Clarke’s gaze with a smile on her face. She set her mug down carefully and sauntered over to Clarke, Niylah’s eyes never leaving Clarke’s. With Niylah standing in front of her, Clarke took Niylah’s hands and intertwined their fingers. Niylah moved so that her legs straddled Clarke’s.

Clarke’s other hand wandered down Niylah’s body – starting at her jawline, traveling to her angular collarbone and down until her fingers brushed against the hardness of Niylah’s nipple. Niylah’s breath hitched and she moaned softly. Clarke’s fingers lingered momentarily, teasing and sensing the diverse textures of the delicate object of her affection. Niylah closed her eyes, urging Clarke to continue exploring. 

Reaching the bottom of Niylah’s tee shirt, Clarke paused. Just as she’d expected, she felt no waistband under the shirt’s soft fabric. When Clarke ventured under the shirt, Niylah’s moan deepened. There was nothing holding Clarke back from the warm wetness Clarke now cupped in her palm. She let her fingers slide between Niylah’s thighs, and Niylah lowered herself onto Clarke’s lap, Clarke’s fingers disappearing inside of Niylah.

Clarke’s own insides turn to mush. Her body hummed with desire. Through Clarke’s thin lounge pants, she felt her body respond to Niylah’s arousal. As she and Niylah melted together, their bodies moving back and forth to a silent beat, Clarke’s body pulsed and throbbed, longing for Niylah’s fingers between her legs. The gentle caress of her tongue. Clarke went crazy at the thought, leaning her head back against her chair. And as she closed her eyes, the image of a certain sexy, dark haired woman holding a guitar invaded Clarke’s mind, causing her heart to accelerate in her chest. She forced the thought from her brain. Not a chance. Just a fantasy.

Niylah’s electric touch brought Clarke back to the moment. When the excitement became too much to handle, Clarke stood, wrapping Niylah’s legs around her waist. Niylah’s wetness pressed against Clarke’s now exposed stomach.

“Time to go back to bed,” Clarke said, her voice low and deep. Niylah didn’t protest as Clarke carried her to the loft.  


End file.
